――This is seriously bad.

Feeling the hard ground against his face, he realized he had fallen face-down. He couldn't muster any strength, and he had already lost feeling in his extremities. Only the heat that made him want to claw at his throat dominated the center of his body.

――Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot.

The moment he opened his mouth to scream, what spilled out was not a scream but a lump of blood. Coughing, he spat out the source of his life that welled up from his throat. The blood spewed so much that blood bubbles floated at the corners of his mouth. In his blurry vision, he could see the ground stained a deep red.

――Oh, this is all my blood.

He was bleeding so much that it soaked his fallen body. They say that about 8% of the human body is blood, and losing a third of it can be fatal. But this seemed like it was all coming out. Though the spitting of blood from his mouth had stopped, the cause of the 'heat' consuming his body was still active. The barely moving hand reached towards his abdomen and, sensing an unimaginable feeling there, he understood.

――Oh, my stomach is torn open.

No wonder it felt hot. It was as if he was mistaking 'pain' for 'heat.' The sharp laceration had nearly split his torso in two, held together by just a thin layer of skin at the waist. In other words, it seemed he was facing the 'checkmate' of his life.

The moment he understood, his consciousness rapidly faded. Even the 'heat' that had forcibly kept him thrashing until then vanished somewhere, and the unpleasant sensation of blood and the feel of his sliced open intestines all receded along with his dwindling awareness.

The only thing left behind was his body, abandoned by his departing 'soul.' With the last vestige of his fading consciousness, he moved his body just a little. He tilted his head upwards.

In front of him, black shoes stepped on the blood-soaked floor, creating ripples. Someone was there. And that someone had likely killed him.

Strangely, he didn't feel like he wanted to see the face of that person. He had no memory of being so indifferent to someone who would kill him, but he had no interest at all in the identity of the one who did it.

The only thing he wished for was―― that she would be safe.

"—Val?"

He thought he heard a voice like the sound of a bell. In a state where he couldn't tell where his ears or nose were, it was more likely a hallucination.

Even so, whether it was reconstructed purely from memory, the voice was incredibly soothing and stirred his emotions.

That's why—,

"—ah!"

A short scream went up, and the carpet of blood welcomed a new participant. The collapsed body was right beside him, and there lay his own arm, stretched out limply.

His white hand, which had fallen powerlessly, intertwined with his own blood-stained hand.

It must have all been a coincidence.

He felt as if the faintly moving fingertip grasped his own hand in return.

"...hang on."

Grabbing the scruff of his distant consciousness, he forcefully turned it around, buying some time. The 'pain' and the 'heat,' all of it was distant, a futile howl of a losing dog.

Yet, even so—,

"I will, definitely—"

—I will save you.

In the next moment, he—Subaru Natsuki, lost his life.